


Anaesthesia

by Angelily_Viventis



Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [26]
Category: Alan Rickman - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Anesthesia, Confusion, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Hilarious, Humor, Married Couple, Married Life, Older Man/Younger Woman, Size Difference, Surgery, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wisdom Teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24323125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelily_Viventis/pseuds/Angelily_Viventis
Summary: Alan has his wife in stitches after coming out of surgery, having his wisdom teeth removed.
Relationships: Alan Rickman/Original Female Character(s), Alan Rickman/Reader
Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729954
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Anaesthesia

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: these are individual one-shots and function as stand-alone chapters. None of the work in these series follow on each other unless indicated as "Parts".

"Stop stressing," (Y/N) says gently while rubbing Alan's shoulder.

"I'm not stressing," he counteracts sternly while adjusting the sheets over his body.

"Yes, you are. There's nothing to be worried about," she pushes her pointer finger inside his clenched hand, pries it open and encases his hand with her own.

"How do you know I'm stressing?"

"Because... You keep clenching your hands into fists. That's your tell-tale sign, darling," she pats the top of his hand gently.

"Good morning, Mr. Rickman. This is Dr. Altman and he will be your dental surgeon today as Dr. Carter is on sick leave," the nurse says cheerily as she walks into the private room followed by a tall brunette doctor in his late thirties.

The nurse proceeds over to the one side of Alan's bed and continues the process of inserting an IV into the top of his hand.

Alan looks from the needle over at the doctor, and then to his wife standing on his other side and gives her a look.

(Y/N) knows all too well what that look means - _Alan doesn't like the new doctor._

"Good morning, Mr. Rickman. I am Dr. Altman and I'll be doing your procedure today," Dr. Altman stretches his hand out in greeting and Alan politely returns the handshake with a forced tight-lipped smile.

"And this must be your daughter, correct? Although, I was told your wife would be here with you today?" He stretches his hand out to (Y/N).

The nurse turns around half shocked and gives (Y/N) an apologetic smile.

"I am _the wife_ \- Professor (Y/N) Rickman," she replies confidently, yet slightly offended, before shaking his hand.

"Oh - Uh, my apologies, Mrs. Rickman. I should not have assumed," the doctor stammers and a red blush creeps up his neck from under the collar of his white lab coat.

"No harm, no foul," (Y/N) replies dryly while having to bite her tongue.

She knows that if Alan doesn't like someone, by default she won't like them either. He's never before been wrong about his opinion about people.

"Sally, what are you putting in my IV?" Alan demands nervously as he eyes yet another needle making its way closer to him.

"It's just a relaxer, Mr. Rickman. We know how anxious you can get before your surgeries," she says with a smile.

"Good," he returns the smile and squeezes his wife's hand.

"You're still scheduled to go into the operating theater in the next thirty minutes, so I'll take this time to explain the procedure to you," the doctor starts.

(Y/N) can already feel Alan's anxiety increasing by the iron hold he has on her hand. She runs her finger smoothly along the top of his knuckles to try and calm him.

"I'm going to start by making an incision in the gum tissue to expose your teeth and bone. I will remove any bone that blocks access to the roots and then I will divide the selected teeth into sections if it turns out to be easier to remove in pieces..."

Alan can feel the relaxer already kicking in as his eyelids start to feel heavy and he can barely stay focused on the doctor's words.

"I will then proceed to remove the teeth and clean the site of the removed teeth of any debris. It's most likely that I will have to stitch the wound closed to promote healing, though this isn't always necessary."

The doctor waits anxiously for Alan's reply and after receiving none, continues.

"I know, it sounds more complicated than it actually is -"

"My wife is a doctor, she knows what you're talking about," Alan interrupts the doctor and waves his hand disinterested in the direction of his wife.

(Y/N) perks up confused at hearing the reference to herself as she looks over at Alan. She stares at him for a little while, evaluating his face, and something clicks inside her mind.

She rolls her eyes and smirks. _Heavens help me today. If he's already like this just after a relaxer what is he going to be like after coming out of anesthesia?_

"You're a doctor?" The dentist asks impressed with a raised eyebrow.

"Doctor in Academics, he means," she slinks her cardigan over her forearm and crosses her arms across her chest.

"I have a doctorate degree... Two, actually. But I'm not a real doctor," she waves her hand in disregard.

"Although I did understand all the terminology you used while explaining the procedure."

"Very impressive," he says half-heartedly to (Y/N) and then turns his attention back to Alan.

"Okay, so in terms of your anesthesia, Mr. Rickman. You will be given general anesthesia today as we will be removing four of your teeth. You will inhale the solution through your nose and then you will lose consciousness. As your surgical team, we will closely monitor your medication, breathing, temperature, fluids, and blood pressure. You will experience no pain and have no memory of the procedure. It will also help with some post-operative discomfort. Any questions?"

Both Alan and (Y/N) shake their heads.

"Okay, Sally will wheel you into surgery now," the doctor announces before taking his leave.

(Y/N) leans down and places a kiss on his forehead, "Everything's going to be okay, darling. I'll be waiting for you when you come out."

"You better be! I don't want to have to go look for you," he jokes and squeezes her hand one last time before being wheeled out of the room.

The procedure lasted for two hours and finally Alan was wheeled back into the private room after having spent some time in the surgical recovery room.

(Y/N) slides her phone back into her black Michael Kors handbag that is resting on the visitor's chair and walks over to the bed. She takes a moment to mentally evaluate her husband. He can barely keep his eyes open although he's trying very hard. His face seems swollen on both sides and he looks pale in the white gown.

She proceeds to pour some of the room temperature water from the pitcher into a plastic cup.

"Here, love. Have some water," she says softly and hands him the cup.

With frail hands he takes hold of the cup and with help from his wife they manage to lift the cup up to his mouth. His arms feel weak and his whole body feels slouchy. Not to mention the fogginess that clouds his mind.

His mouth still feels numb and upon taking a sip, the water spills from between his lips. (Y/N) quickly takes the cup from his hand and sets it on the side table before grabbing a serviette and patting Alan's mouth, neck, and part of his gown dry.

"Sorry," he mumbles grumpily.

"Don't worry about it," she replies sincerely.

A heavy sigh pushes its way through Alan's nostrils alerting (Y/N) to his attention.

"What is it Al?" she asks with a smirk.

"I would like some cake," he says with a pout and his hand makes its way to the edge of the sheet, gently tugging on a piece of loose thread.

 _Here it comes..._ (Y/N) thinks to herself. The moment she's been waiting for - her first glimpse at _the loopy Al._ She'll indulge in his conversation and play along with his requests.

"A piece of cake? Now?" She asks incredulously.

"Shh! No, no," he whispers mysteriously. "I want the whole cake," he motions with his hand how big he wants the cake to be.

_Right..._

"Which cake would you like, darling?" she has to try her very best not to be insensitive and snicker at his state.

"I don't know..." He closes his eyes momentarily and they spring open in a flash causing his wife to startle somewhat. "Something with caramel!"

"Well... would you like for me to bake you some once you're better?" (Y/N) offers sincerely after moving a chair closer to his bed and taking a seat.

"No!" He whispers in a low voice, looking around the room suspiciously.

"Why are we whispering?" she whispers back.

"Don't let Jany hear you," Alan leans slightly forward in the bed. "She's going to tell me to go to the gym after I eat the cake. I won't fit into Snape's robes on Monday," his speech comes out slurry, much to (Y/N)'s delight.

She notices his eyes are still slightly glassy and figures it's going to take a few more hours for the drugs to wear off.

"... Darling, you finished filming Harry Potter five years ago. I think it will be okay if you had a slice now."

"But how will I eat it?" He asks incredulously.

"How do you mean?" She's slightly confused by his question.

"My arms are as short as a bloody T-Rex's!" He exclaims and looks down at his arm where it's bent at the elbow, resting on top of his chest.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes in a good manner and looks back to where her handbag is. How she wishes she could catch this on camera. But she knows Alan will be embarrassed once he sees it, so she decides that she will be the only one who gets to witness - and enjoy - his state.

"I don't know if they took my arms off, but it's shorter than what it used to be," he wiggles both his arms at the wrists.

"Yeah, they do look a bit shorter now that you mention it," she plays along.

He puffs out a breath and sighs exasperatedly. "It makes my blood boil... Why do they take off people's arms? I didn't come in for a procedure to take off my arms," he exclaims with little passion and rests his head on the pillow.

"Which procedure did I come in for again?" He turns his head to the side and looks expectantly over at his wife.

"You had your wisdom teeth removed, love."

"My wisdom?!" He shoots forward.

"Oh, God! How will I be able to face the world without my wisdom?" He grimaces and runs a hand tiredly over his face.

"I will be the dumbest person around! You might as well divorce me now because I'm not going to be interesting to be around anymore..." he mumbles and lays back down.

"Hm-hmmm.." she hums with a goofy grin.

"This is the strangest flesh-coloured sticker I've ever seen," he says later on as he picks at the plaster covering his hand that's holding his IV in place.

"It's a see-through plaster, dear," she looks up from her magazine and eyes her husband. "The colour you see is the colour of your skin. Don't take it off," she warns as he picks at the plaster again.

"But it's bothering me, woman!" He barks.

 _He's like a little kid discovering new things_ , she thinks to herself. _With the attention span of a goldfish._

His eyes move up his chest and he spots one of the heart rate monitor electrode pads on his shoulder.

"Come in, Corporal," he belts into the electrode as he holds it like a shoulder microphone.

At this point (Y/N) cannot help but snicker at his silly antics.

_What is going on in that big brain of his?_

"What's an army code?" He shoots his wife a glare after hearing her laughing.

"A what?" She asks caught off guard.

"Bravo, Carlie... What's it then? Alfonso?" He calls out quietly to himself.

"Come in, Alfonso. Come in, Charlie- Wharlie," he places his ear against the electrode again and looks earnestly over at his wife.

"I don't think they have signal in Australia. Hello?"

(Y/N) bites the insides of her cheeks to stop herself from smiling. She's reconsidering getting her phone and videotaping this because this might be some of his best material yet.

"I hate it when things don't work. Why does technology always leave us disappointed?" He blabs.

"Hello?!" He demands again with his ear next to the electrode. He shakes his head and let's that go for the moment.

After some quiet time passes, Alan runs his hands along the sheets, along the bed rails, and finally makes it way to the neckline of the gown.

"My dress is a bit loose," he comments seriously after lifting the material at the neck and glimpsing inside.

"They worked on you," she answers coolly.

"On my dress?!"

She snorts. "No, on you."

He huffs and plops his head back against the pillow. He sits back up and inspects his IV again, fingering the plaster.

"Leave that now," his wife reprimands. "Don't take it off."

"I can't take it off. I can't see where to take it off because I don't have my glasses on," he squints his eyes.

_What in the world..._

"Ha. You don't wear glasses, Al."

He runs his fingers along the cold plastic and suddenly gasps causing (Y/N)'s head to jerk back in his direction.

"I am a grandpa! Look at these wrinkles. There's wrinkles!" he points at the plaster.

"Yes, it's called old-age," she replies coolly and continues to page through her magazine.

"Is it truly true - that when you turn thirty you turn old?" he exclaims nervously.

With a sigh she places the magazine on the bedside table.

"My dear... You're not thirty anymore. You haven't been for a few decades," she leans forward in her chair and encases his hands with her own.

Tears form in his chestnut eyes as he looks at his wife and his bottom lip starts to quiver. (Y/N) can hear her heartbreak into pieces at seeing his vulnerability.

"They shouldn't have added any wrinkles to me during surgery," he says in a shaky voice and wipes at his wet eyes.

"Why do they put wrinkles on people?" His voice cracks and he swallows a sob.

"Oh, darling," she comforts softly.

He turns his head towards the electrode on his shoulder again and through teary eyes says, "Hello? Why do you put wrinkles on people? That's not fair..."

"I don't want to be old," he wipes his eyes again and sniffles. "Why do they do that?" He asks his wife sincerely.

"It's just so that they can see what you'll look like when you're old," she complies with his line of questioning.

"I don't even have a mirror, how do they want me to see? How can I see what I look like when I'm old if I don't even have a mirror?" He demands through sobs.

"No, don't take it off," she says once he starts fingering the plaster again.

"But I have to!" He belts out. "To get rid of the wrinkles!"

"It's okay, darling," she soothes. "The doctor will come in later and take the wrinkles off."

He sighs theatrically. "No. Because then they have to operate again to take the wrinkles out."

"No, it's not necessary," (Y/N) replies calmly.

"I'm over this year. They should just make it so that it's 2020 already. I should have only woken up then."

After a few moments of silence Alan starts crying again.

_Oh, boy. Here we go._

"Honey, what's the matter?" She asks sweetly.

"You're going to put me in a retirement home, aren't you?" Heavy tears roll off his cheeks.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I have wrinkles! Look, they won't go away. And I'm drinking water... Look," he says as he picks up the plastic cup and takes a sip. "I drink water but they won't go away..."

"It's okay, darling, we will sort it out, okay?"

"I don't want to be a grandfather..." He squeezes his eyes shut causing tears to flow faster and he sniffs.

"And what about you?" He asks.

A frown settles between her well-maintained eyebrows, "What about me?"

"I don't want you to be a grandmother... I don't want to be married to a grandmother..."

"Oh, my sweet," her lips form an automatic pout. Her heart goes out to him as he clearly has some concerns about his age.

"I won't be a grandmother merely by association of marriage. We would need grandchildren for that. Mind you, we would need to have children of our own first," she chuckles. "And besides, I'm only thirty-two. I'm far too young to be a grandma."

"Oh, rub it in why don't you?! What do you have to worry about? You don't have wrinkles of a day old. Your skin is perfect," he utters between sobs and wipes at his eyes again.

"Okayyy, I think you need some sleep. Why don't you lie back and close your eyes for a while, hm?" She offers and helps him slip further down into the bed as he closes his eyes with one last sniff.

After another hour, Dr. Altman cleared Alan for discharge and the couple could go home. To say the drive home was eventful would be an understatement. Alan kept pushing every button he could reach in the G-wagon and kept wanting to know when (Y/N) traded it in for a _spaceship_.

Once she pulls up to the curb, (Y/N) walks over to the passenger side and helps Alan out. He complained earlier that his legs felt like jelly, and he looks drunk judging from the sway in his walk.

"Up you go," she says with a grunt as she slings his one arm over her shoulder and helps him up the three stairs to their front door.

She fiddles for her keys and unlocks the door. They walk ever so slowly through the lengthy hallway to the other end of the townhouse.

It's like Alan took drugs and alcohol at the same time. It's very funny to witness. His speech is still slurry and then there's the earlier mentioned sway in his step. Added, is the burst of hallucinations he would get. (Y/N) is sure he won't find any of this amusing once she tells him in the morning.

He stretches his arms out in front of him and trails his fingers along the white wall of the hallway. Millimeter by millimeter he moves forward down the lengthy hall.

"Al, I would like to get you to the room before the end of _this_ century, please," (Y/N) barks impatiently with a sigh.

She's trying very hard to be empathetic, but caring for someone coming off of anesthesia is the same as caring for an über drunk friend. It's not fun - you're not on the same buzzing level as them, plus they think they're moving at a normal pace when in reality they're moving as slow as a sloth. She gently grabs hold of his fleshy hips and guides him down the hall.

Once in front of the kitchen he takes a moment to regain his balance. He rests his head against the cool white wall with one hand above his head.

"Hi, Rosa. We're back from surgery," (Y/N) calls into the kitchen once she spots Rosa over by the sink.

"That's very good, ma'am. How did it go?" She asks as plates clink together in the soapy water.

"It went well. He's still feeling a little loopy, so I'll put him upstairs for the time being," (Y/N) says as she adjusts her handbag over her shoulder and grabs hold of Alan's waist again.

"Would Mr. Rickman want something to eat, ma'am?"

With a chuckle she answers, "I'm sure he does, dear. I'll find out what once we're upstairs and then I'll come down."

"Yes, ma'am."

_A beat passes._

"She's staring again," Alan whispers lowly in a grumble as they mount the stairs up to the second floor.

"What? Who?" (Y/N) asks confused. At this point none of what Alan is saying is making any sense. 

Alan inconspicuously peers over (Y/N)'s shoulder down the stairs and into the kitchen at Rosa who is busy drying the dishes.

"Rosa," he sneers once they turn the corner upstairs.

"What is she staring at?" (Y/N) asks disinterestedly as they enter their bedroom.

Alan stops dead in his tracks causing her to bump into him. He looks down his nose at his wife.

"Tsk, woman! Me!" He bellows.

"... She wants.... My body," he whispers seriously and gestures up and down his sides.

(Y/N) cannot help but full-out laugh at this point. "Ha! Al, I'm sure Rosa doesn't desire your pasty white British buttocks."

"Whatever," he mumbles before slowly laying down on the plush king-sized bed.

"Okay, darling. I'll be working in my office downstairs today if you need anything," she says sweetly as she pulls the covers over his form and tucks him in.

She runs her fingers gently down his cheek and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Try keeping the icepacks on your jaw for about twenty minutes at a time. I know it hurts, but it will only help speed up the healing process," she hands him the light blue icepacks and he reluctantly takes them and places them on each side of his face.

"Good, and try getting some sleep so the drugs can work their way out of your system. If there's anything you'd like to eat, send me a text and I'll send Rosa up. I'm sure she'll enjoy _staring_ at you," she teases with a wink, much to Alan's dismay which resulted in a tongue click from him.

"Okay, Rosa. I'll be working from home today. I have a lot of emails to catch up on." (Y/N) calls cheerily as she enters the kitchen again.

"Okay, ma'am. Did Mr. Alan want anything to eat?"

 _Ding_.

Her phone signals a text from Alan.

_Speak of the devil._

"Uuuuh, yeah... It seems like he has a whole list," she chuckles upon opening the lengthy text message.

_AR:_

_Darling, could you please get me:_

_Meatball sandwich_  
_Quinoa salad_  
_Peppermint ice cream_  
_Raisins_  
_Fish fingers_  
_Pickles_  
_2x chocolate bars_  
_Tin of caramel_

Another _Ding_.

_AR:_

_What will I take my pain meds with? Maybe some Chobani yogurt - plain_

_And something to wash it all down with - Iced Tea, the Earl Grey kind._

"Well, it looks like I'm headed to the shops, Rosa," she sighs dramatically with a smile.

"Good luck, ma'am," Rosa calls after her as (Y/N) exits the front door with her keys in hand.


End file.
